


the past will only pull you down

by Fallax_2019 (Fallax_and_Fulcrum)



Series: end roll poetry [1]
Category: End Roll (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Prostitution, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-02 23:55:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21169994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallax_and_Fulcrum/pseuds/Fallax_2019
Summary: Poems of Russell's life before the dream.





	1. THE MAN

**Author's Note:**

> These were written for Camp NanoWriMo a few years ago. The quality varies. Because I was pressuring myself for ~4K words, it gets progressively more shit. Some are so shit, in fact, that I've decided to not publish them. So there are leaps in the story (in chronological order-ish). 
> 
> I ended up changing to first person half-way through, you'll see a very clumsy transition. 
> 
> I don't know if ao3 lets you know every time I've edited a chapter, but I am editing them often.

He sought refuge  
in the wrong place.  
Without care or concern:  
you are the world; it is yours  
to give.

Now,  
there’s empty bottles  
littering the floor.  
Some smashed,  
some not.

Shards of glass:  
a reminder  
of the shattered  
man.

There’s a broken  
picture frame,  
too.


	2. THE ACCIDENT

—” said the man, vile  
twisting thing  
coming out of his mouth.

The woman agreed,   
not knowing   
herself.

She lost herself.


	3. ODE

Lost herself in ecstasy  
enticed by the devil's  
embassy.


	4. THE WOMAN

She stepped over the glass,  
brushed it into the trash.  
Hid the scratched picture  
behind the couch.  
Stood on the glittering mat,  
and opened the door.

The other man is handsome, with a bulge in his pants,  
hands over a wad of cash.

She smiles,  
accepts it,  
and leads that man  
—not _the_ man—  
to the bedroom.

Soft footsteps:  
do not wake the sleeping  
man on the couch.

(Even though it was _he_ who asked.)

She’s the  
breadwinner  
of the family.


	5. MASK

The child's  
life written in his  
skin  
is a mask.


	6. COMPLAINT

The child isn’t a whiner,  
unlike his father,  
who has plenty.

A drunken haze  
not his own.

He bares it and leaves,  
something to be hidden  
under torn-down sleeves.

His friend worried over him.


	7. HURT

Hurt.

It’s always  
there.


	8. PHOTOGRAPH

At night, the child  
sneaked past the sleeping beast,  
saw the photograph,  
and crushed it.

There is nothing:  
no betrayal;  
what trust?


	9. REFUGE

His friend’s home  
is in the slums,   
where the child   
stayed the night.

While his mother,   
the debauchee,   
lost herself in ecstasy;   
and his father,   
in cecity,   
enjoyed the devil’s   
brewery. 


	10. FRIEND

The child’s friend  
is fighting  
a different kind of fight.

There is nothing,  
nothing in the grey,  
grey apartment.


	11. THE SLUMS

Apartments tower.

Rain dripping down   
to puddles, in which  
discarded papers  
litter the streets.

The suburb is hung-over  
by sea-fog.

Across the road,  
hulking,  
mean boys spit nails.

A cat yeowls,  
dashing across the road—  
—forgot to look.

Even the birds  
don’t touch its carcass.

The boy doesn’t live here.  
He lives in the district over.

Sometimes, he wishes   
he did.


	12. OFFER

"You should run away,"  
his friend offered, mother nodding.   
"You can’t live there.  
That place is awful."

The child refused,  
knowing that he was already  
too much of a burden.

He didn’t see  
his friend’s face  
or the mother’s  
worry-ridden eyes.

He left.


	13. A "KINDNESS"

The stranger's eyes  
were the same ones  
as the men his mother saw.

The child ignored him.

Bad call.


	14. OFFICER

It was a stroke  
of the devil’s luck.

A screech of tire engines,   
and the loud   
assertive voice   
of a police officer.

"Get your ruddy hands off him!"

The stranger scrammed.

"Are you hurt?"

The child shook his head.

"Did he do anything to you?"

Another shake.

"Why are you up that late?  
It’s dangerous,  
ya know.  
Come on,  
I’ll take you home."

"Thanks, officer."

‘Call me —.  
I told ya that before,  
eh?"

Her car was nice. 

She didn’t lie.  
Lots of adults did.  
The police weren’t supposed to lie,  
but they weren't supposed to care,  
either.

At home,  
dad was staring.  
"Wanna come in?"

And he had  
the stranger's   
eyes.


	15. WALK

The child arose    
before the birds.    
One lonely cicada    
to greet him. 

Careful,    
tiptoe down the hall.    
Grab the worn-down rucksack    
and pray it doesn’t split. 

Today,    
tomorrow. 

Almost began the walk    
to school. 


	16. TODAY

It's today   
a little too late.

Bolt back down the hall.    
Duck,   
shield face,   
escape the reign of the glass-bottle. 

"Where are you going!" 

Dash outside. 

"Get back here!"

Round corner.   
Safe. 

Note: hang out with friend.    
Maybe buy some lunch. 


	17. INSTEAD

No-one noticed  
the child’s shirt    
hanging on his thin frame.    
Sleeves pulled down    
as far as they can go. 

Dark circles   
under his eyes.    
No lunch, few books.    
Short,    
blunt pencil. 

Instead,  
they wonder why he’s such a pessimist,    
and Chris slips him    
a piece of bread    
under the desk. 


	18. CLASS

Don’t learn anything.    
It’s just a temporary    
refugee camp. 

If a teacher catches him staring    
out the window,    
they’ll snap. 

They don’t do anything else though.    
And nobody bothers to read    
his report,    
but they all know what it’ll be. 

Fail,    
failing   
failure. 

Even for all his strengths,    
almost is never just enough. 


	19. JOB

They’re allowed to leave    
the school premises during lunch,    
to buy it. 

The child won’t be buying  
anything.   
He'll be selling   
disease. 

(He's a plague-bearer;   
he spreads the disease.)


	20. DEALS

Chris skipping beside him,    
swearing at drivers who leer at them,    
giving them the bird,   
behind their backs. 

"It’s a good haul so far." 

And it was. 

Passers-by looking   
the _look_,  
then their duo slipping into    
casual disregard. 

It’s nothing personal.   
Indifference is a  
two-way street.


	21. INVISIBLE

Onlookers  
go ahead  
pass him by.


	22. ADDICTION

It’s in their eyes,    
and the stench   
clings to them.

Nobody talks much. 

They’re begging for more,    
more of this relief,   
more of this pleasure    
—much like his mother—    
and waste no time handing    
out the meagre amount of cash. 

That’s how they roll.    
Quick, cheap and dirty.    
You don't want it?    
You do now.


	23. LUNCH-BELL

They're back before the bell.    
Nobody calls them out,    
even if they have suspicions.    
The only reason why Chris was suspended    
is because he got caught. 

They're more careful now. 

Today, the boy managed to steal   
some sandwiches from the cafeteria.    
He’ll eat one,  
save one. 

Meanwhile, Gardenia    
aced her test.    
The boy caught Chris staring,    
and he blushed. 


	24. DETACHMENT

The boy's  
name  
is Russell.

I am him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The shittiest transition in all of my writing.


	25. CRUSH

"You like anyone?"

I shook my head. 

"Come on!   
You’re a teenage boy,    
jacked up on hormones and puberty.    
There’s gotta be someone."

"Not really."

"Any," Chris smirked,  
"in-depth experiences  
with a girl?"

"Yes... actually."

"What's her name?"

"I don’t know.    
a few years ago,    
I met a girl    
younger than me.    
She was very smart,    
and we talked at an aquarium."

"And?"

"I never saw her again."


	26. MEMORY

For my parents' anniversary  
we went to an aquarium.  
I went with them.  
They didn't notice   
me leave them.

There was a man in a green coat   
taking notes on the fish;   
a woman with brown hair,   
and a kind stare,   
gazing through the glass.

A foreign tourist,   
not knowing how to use   
the oceanarium,  
while little children   
screamed and played.

And one girl,   
reading about plankton,   
mitochondria,   
all the hidden things,   
looked over her shoulder,   
and noticed me. 


	27. GIRL

She was alone,   
like me.   
But was smarter. 

Way smarter. 

She was a year younger then me   
—two, three?—   
and reading stuff I couldn’t even pronounce. 

"Are you lost?" 

I blinked.

"You look it."

"What are you reading about?"

"Micro-organisms.   
You never  
answered my question."

"I am."

"Same."

"Wanna go back  
to your parents?"

"They’ll find me." 

"Mine wouldn’t bother." 

"Hey,   
these organisms,   
they’re like us." 

"What do you mean?"

"They carry on.  
They keep on living   
without parents,  
Just like us."

Without parents.  
That sounded nice.  
Too bad I'm a coward.   
(Or so _he_ says.)

"That's poetic." 

She smiled,   
and looked the other way. 

"Come on!   
Let me show you something!"


	28. ROMANCE

"And? "  


"I never saw her again."

"Pity. She was digging it."

‘Do you want me to tell Gardenia?’ 

"Fine,  
fine,  
I'll stop."


	29. SHOP

On my way to get dad more beer  
I spied adverts for a new shop.   
“Herbal remedies,” it read. 

I bought the   
cheapest beer I could,  
and kept the change.

On my way back, I  
avoided every car,    
in case it was  Yumi’s . 

I didn’t want one of those   
situations. 


	30. EVACUATE

Dad’s yelling again.   
Mum’s doing dirty things,    
not even trying to hide    
in dull light.

So I thought I’d go to the zoo.    
I slipped my hand into mum’s purse,    
and shoved the notes into my pocket. 


	31. KINDNESS IS GREEN

"Hey,   
boy,   
are you alright?"

I looked around me,    
behind me,    
to the man in green,    
and nodded. 

"My name’s Tabasa.    
I work here.    
Would you like to come with me?" 


	32. TOO LOUD

They’re screeching,   
the monkeys    
mock me.   
Just like dad. 

I can’t.

How does  Tabasa put up with this? 

‘They’re just excited.    
There’s a new person.’ 

Hey look—  
it's mum and her  
man-whores.  
It's dad and Yumi. 

They should stop. 

But Tabasa_isn’t_   
him.   


That's nice.

Would Tabasa   
be my brother,   
if I asked?

No, he   
woudn't.  
And everything's  
too loud.

(A flash of pipe,  
and then a crunch.)

They’re screeching louder   
like dad   
I did something wrong.

I hate the zoo.    
Stupid monkeys.    
Stupid parents. 

They should just disappear. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: Tabasa gets oof'd.


	33. NIGHTMARES

That night   
many-eyed beings   
swarmed the boy,  
asking if he felt guilt. 

He didn't.

A voice, venom twisting  
wrapping around him still   
his answer did not change.

The beings were clad in a  
shadow-cloak of judgement. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third person, I've missed you.


	34. PREACH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have a fancy title.

There was a   
church wrapped in ivy,   
white,   
in the child’s town. 

The child visited   
and watched   
and heard   
the sermon. 

God forgave all.

The child didn’t repent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been to a confessional, but I'd like to try saying "I've killed someone" (or other funny/horrible stuff) in one of them just to see how the priest would react. As you can tell, I harbour an immense respect for religion. What even are the laws surrounding them? Can the priest/whoever's waiting on the other side report you to the police?
> 
> The next chapters are (in no particular order): Russell pushing Gardenia down the stairs, and Russell doing drugs, and Russell calling Kantera a hypocrite, and various ones to do with church. The plot'll get scrappy (more scrappy) from now on. 
> 
> In the meantime, have a few poems that could fit basically anywhere in the plotline while I try and figure out what to do with the plot. Is third person or first person better, or do you not mind when I switch between them like continuity doesn't matter?


	35. CATTY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, I killed the latest person to show me kindness. Let's, I dunno, do drugs."
> 
> Don't do drugs, kids. Though that's the least of Russell's problems.

Catties   
the diseased   
mad like cats   
rabid   
the boy scrapes   
white powder   
onto his finger   
and inhales. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WANT TO KILL KANTERA ALREADY LET ME KILL HIM


	36. NOT MINE

Gardenia's birthday   
is tomorrow   
Chris told me   
I never told him mine.

She's having a    
party and   
rejoyce in her   
father's love. 

I’m invited.   
Everyone in the class is.    
How does she spare care    
for people she hardly knows?


	37. WHAT I DIDN'T HAVE

Gardenia’s dad    
was very touchy-feely.   
Gardenia tolerated it,   
of course, it was   
my birthday,    
her party, and    
blushed in face of her friends

Chris was digging this,    
although   
he was too shy to make a move.

I retreated upstairs.   
I didn’t want it to get too loud   
again   
I rout in the face of crowds.


	38. ANGEL

I sat on the toilet,   
stared at myself   
in the mirror   
I stared back. 

Why did Gardenia get  
a party  
no  
a father who loved her,   
spoilt child   
never known suffering. 

And she stood before me  
back to me  
illuminated   
in the dull light of the hallway.

She looked like an angel.   
So I pushed her  
because weren't angels supposed to fly? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did Gardenia go upstairs? Why? Why is she so hard to kill?


	39. CHURCH

I go to church again,  
sit in the pews,   
and listen   
to the priest preaching.

It's funny, I think,  
love, joy, care in the air,  
that their god doesn't tell them  
that there's a murderer with them.

"Are you okay," a girl asks,  
herbs in her hair,  
slipping in beside me.  
I nod. 


End file.
